THE LUCK OF THE LINDSAYS

New Zealand Times, Volume LIII, Issue 12608, 19 November 1926, Page 12

THE LUCK OF THE LINDSAYS

(PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.)

BY

MARGARET TYNDALL.

IC O f Y R I G H T.J

CHAPTER XVI.—THE BROKEN PROMISE.

The discovery of Julia’s flight caused some 'hours of terrible consternation at the Priory, sinoe no one knew where or with whom she had gone. The . entire household had been summarily awakened by the noise of Donald’s revolver, fired by whom he could not tell. His father had found him lying unconscious in the gun room, with Mainwaring presumably doing his best to revive him. ‘■'What has happened?” asked Lindsay in alarm, as he switched on the electric light and came hastily into the rcom, to be followed a moment later by many members of his household. "Why, what’s the matter with your hand, Mainwaring?” lie added sharply, for the blood was streaming from his brother-in-law’s hand' with alarming rapidity. “I can’t tell you anything about it, Lindsay,” was the answer. ‘‘AH I know is that I heard a noise in here and came to see what i'. y as —to find Donald struggling with r omeone —but who it was I haven’t the faintest suspicion. . In. his excitement your son tried to shoot me for intruding.” He staggered to his feet to give place to Adela, who, white-faced and horrorstruck, knelt down by Donald’s side. • “Open all the doors and windows,” she commanded; “ —no, no brandy—there is nothing seriously wrong, . I think.” Someone hastened to do her bidding, and very soon the cool night air began to revive tho boy, for Mainwaring’s blow had luckily done little if any damage. ‘How did it all happen?” asked Alec Lindsay when his son' had sufficiently recovered to be able to speak quite rationally. Tho boy gave a fleeting glance at Mainwaring before lie answered! “I—l haven’t the faitest idea. I heard a noise and came to see what it. was —to find Julia and. a- man ” “Julia! You don’t know what you are saying!” said his father. “She’s asleep in her room, of course!” “I should advise you to make quits certain, Alec.” advised his wife upon whom a terrible suspicion was slowly dawning. Alec Lindsay gave the necessary order to one of the maids, and with a curt word dismissed the other servants to their rooms, since this affair seemed to partake of a very intimate nature, and he did not wish for a scandal of any sort. A moment later the maid servant returned to say that her young mistress’s room was empty, that the .bed had not been slept in, and that the room gave signs of hasty packing. Lindsay dismissed her before he made any • comment upon the information, for the matter threatened to be more serious than he had at first imagined. In spite of the feeling of nauseating fear that had taken hold of her, Adela forced herself to attend to Mainwaring’s hand, and having nothing with which to occupy himself, Lindsay’s exasperation at this mysteriously inexplicable state of affairs seemed to get the better of him. “Can’t any of you explain this thing!” he demanded. “One of you must know all about it; it is incredible that such an affair should have taken place (without someone’s know.ledge.” , At this moment he caught sigh t of “ the revolver lying by the wainscotting near the door. . He picked it up eagerly. thinking that it might furnish him with some clue as to its owner; and as he looked his face grew very white. “This is yours then?” he said severely, turning to his son. “Yes. father, it is. mine,” answered the boy frankly; “but I didn’t fire it. Someone gave me a blow and wrenched it from my hand. I don’t remember what happened after that.” “That’s a lie!” interposed Mainwaring “You fired it deliberately at tae.” : “I did not,” said Donald passion- , ately. ‘ ‘How could I fire it if I was unconscious?” He turned to his father., hoping that he would at least give some credence to his story. “I heard a noise when I was in my bedroom, and came;to see what it was. I thought someone had broken into the house; that is why I was carrying my revolver. I saw Uncle Roger come out of father’s study with a torch and I followed him here. Then someone struck me, ns I’ve just told you.” “Your mendacity is only equalled by your cowardice,” replied Mainwaring severely. Lindsay looked from one man to the other, unable to. make up his mind as to who was telling the truth. Whoever had shot Mainwaring, the identity of the man whom Donald professed to have seen with his sister in the room still remained a mystery. Whether Mainwaring had followed Donald or Donald had followed Mainwaring. must remain in abeyance for the time being since the really vital question was: What had become of. Julia! Of the two men he felt justified in taking the word of his brother-in-law. for he believed that Mainwaring had nothing to gain by aiding and abetting his niece to elope, while Donald might have done so in the hope that his sister might thus fall into her father’s disfavour and be disinherited, in which case he would profit considerably. Lindsay was a man'who should have been possessed of finer and better judg r ment than to imagine such a despicable action on the part of his son. But the extraordinary events of the night had for the moment turned his mind from its usual tranquility. He felt that he must lay the blame oh

someone, and that someone was Donald. ■ ■ . ,

With a sternness his wife had hardly believed possible of him, he ordered the boy to his room, and finding that nothing could be done before the morning, Adela thought it wiser to return to bed also, but not to sleep, for she was excited and ill at ease. That Gordon bad broken bis promise to. her was evident; that Mainwar-ing-had been instrumental in aiding the couple she. felt equally certain, and whatever happened, Adela made a firm determination to show up the man in his true colours oh the following day. But on the next morning her task was more difficult than she had thought. She and her husband breakfasted alone, for Mainwaring had professed himself too unwell 1 to come down, and Donald had obstinately ’refused to meet his father while under the cloud of suspicion. “I have had this letter from Julia,” said Lindsay coldly, as he passed the note in question, over to his. wife. Adela read the letter through in silence. Julia begged her father’s forgiveness, and told him of her flight to London.. The girl seemed- happy enough, Adela thought, but her heart ached. with remorse and regret as she pictured to herself her step-daughter’s future married life when the romance attending lier hasty marriage had .faded away, leaving only the bitterness of utter disillusionment.

Adela folded the letter and put it back into the envelope,. but. made .no .comment, for.her husband’s eyes were fixed resolutely upon his plate. She poured out a cup of tea and tried to eat some toast, but at last gave up the attempt, for food of any kind seemed to choke her. At last her husband rose from the table, a stern, grimlooking line about the corners of his month. “I want to speak to you in the library, Adela,” he said coldly, “if you can spare me, the time.” Adela nodded, hardly understanding his attitude • towards her, yet feeling that a storm was coming. She followed him to the gloomy library with a fast-beating liart, and took the! chair he offered her with timid thanks. “My reason for asking you to come here is that you may know some facts concerning yourself which you are evidently unwilling to disclose to me,” he began in cold, measured tones as he seated himself a short distance away from her. “It seems,” he went on, “as if it is not Mainwaring, or even my son who is responsible for this unhappy state of affairs; it is you, and you alone.” “I?” said Adela.

“Yes, I have been informed—by whom is entirely immaterial that the man whom my daughter has eloped with was a former lover of yoprs—that you jilted him —that you weiie aware of his meetings with Julia, and that if you did not actually encourage them, you countenanced them by your own secrot meetings with this man ” “It is all untrue!” Said Adela, rising to her feet in her indignation. “No, I’m afraid it is not. I know for a fact that the price of your silence concerning my daughter’s meetings with this man was the return of some very incriminating love-letters. I have them here,” and feeling in his breast-pocket Lindsay drew out two or three letters which Adela could not fail to recognise. He selected ope marked with a blue pencil line, opened it, and began to read aloud: , “Why have you neither written to •me-as you promised, nor made any effort to see me? . I can think only of you —nothing else matters, no one in my life matters. You will spy that this is a rash admission for me to make, perhaps, but I am sure of your love, although some times douibts, will spring up. If you but say the word, I will at once relinquish all the plans for the future of which I spoke to you, and place myself entirely in your hands. What greater proof can- I give you of my love for you ? Since it is apparently impossible for you to come and see me here, if you will name a place and time, I promise :to meet you. I can’t go on any longer ” “Stop!” said Adela in a hard, choking voice, unable to endure any more. “How dare you insult me by reading that letter to me—a letter written long ago to a man I believed I loved—a man who gave me up because my father lost all his money.” \ have no proof that what you tell me is correct.” “My aunt, will, prove it—she lived with us.” “But she is a prejudiced person.” “Then you mean to insinuate——” “I insinuate nothing,” he said coldly, replacing the letters. in his pocket, which Mainwaring had pretended to have received that morning from Stanley Gordon. “I am quite ready arid willing to believe that the passages I have just read to you were the ungoverned eloquence of youth; on the other hand, I fail to see what was the urgent necessity for keeping this event of your former life a secret from me.” “Because at the time you asked me to marry you. I had almost forgotten the affair; it seemed so trivial and ridiculous to think of telling you of it,” said Adela with just anger. “1 must say that your letters hardly seemed to convey the impression that the affair was trivial. Then again, there is the fact that you know of my daughter’s meetings with this old lover of yours. If you knew him to be .such ap utter scoundrel, why didn’t you come and tell me everything? As it is, you have willingly deceived me. You are my wife, you profess to be a Christian woman, and yet you knowingly let my innocent girl fall into the clutches of a scoundrel! Gsd forgive you, for ,I never oan!” (To be continued.)